I’d hurt her pretty fucking badly.
When she already had a heart covered in scars.
Didn’t I already know that? How many times had I caught her looking out the window, captured by a thought that painted naked pain on her face? Despair? Hadn’t I wracked my fucking brain about the day I’d found her staring at a letter like her world was imploding around her ears?
Yes, I’d known Hannah had been broken. Yet I’d refused to treat her with the care she deserved because I didn’t trust myself not to worship her. Not to claim her for my own.
“No.” I uttered the word quietly. “She does not deserve it.”
“Fix it,” Cole demanded. “Soon.” His eyes flickered to the hall, where I heard voices approaching.
All menace melted off Cole’s face as the girls approached.
Fix it.
My eyes danced over Hannah’s body. She was wearing sweats. No makeup—not that she wore a lot anyway. She wascarrying books for Clara, smiling down at her. She was a fucking showstopper.
Fix it.
How in the fuck did I fix it when in that moment, watching them in my kitchen, absolutely nothing felt broken.
ten
HANNAH
“This place is heaven on earth,”Cole remarked, staring at the rugged coastline. The biting winds hurled white-capped waves at the rocks, yet the sky was a cloudless blue, the sun kissing the horizon. “I get why you’re here.”
We were having dinner at his hotel. The nicest one in Jupiter because Cole only stayed at the nicest hotels. He’d spent his entire childhood poorer than me. He’d known true poverty. And he’d worked himself to the bone to ensure he got the life he deserved. He had the curator position at the museum and his own apartment. A rich, older boyfriend—who he wasn’t with for the money but because he loved him. All things I might’ve known if I’d kept in touch with him.
We hadn’t mentioned that elephant in the room over dinner; we’d strayed away from loaded subjects. We’d chatted about his life, a lot about Clara.
We’d skirted emotional land mines, like what a shitty friend I was, my ruined marriage … Beau.
“Yeah, it’s going to be hard to leave.” I sighed, looking out onto the shadowed waves.
Beau had given me the night off.
He’d hung around for tea and brownies, not saying much, eyeing Cole and I with a measured intensity. I’d been unable to concentrate on anything with him being so close, silently watching.
Cole had noticed it in between his conversations with Clara, whom he adored. I didn’t know when Cole, my bitchy best friend, started to tolerate andlikechildren. He’d referred to them as “sticky emotional terrorists” the last time I spoke to him.
“Gavin wants kids,” he’d responded when I said as much earlier. “So I have to learn to like the little, snotty fuckers.” He scrunched up his nose. “I’ve been volunteering at toddler time at the museum,” he added. “Once you get over the drool, the lack of personal space, the screaming, and the smell of dirty diapers, they can be passably tolerable.”
I’d grinned into my soda at this, happy, amused, and profoundly disappointed in myself over how much I’d missed of my friend’s life.
“Clara is easy to get along with,” he’d continued. “I would be way more on board with this kid thing if I knew I could get one exactly like her.”
I’d smiled at him, thinking as much. Except I didn’t want my child to be exactly like Clara; I wanted Clara to be mine forever. I was already grieving her and my presence in her life as spring approached like a harbinger of doom. Sure, I still had a whole winter with her, but that was both too far and too soon.
“So.” Cole drained his drink. “We’re going to talk about Beau.”
I gripped my soda. I’d known this was coming, but the mere mention of his name and the loaded expression on Cole’s face took my breath away. “Beau?” I questioned innocently. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
He raised a brow knowingly. “Yeah, you writing a fucking novel about him at midnight is nothing? And him looking like he wanted to rip my hands off because I was touching you was nothing, huh? Him eye fucking you every chance he gets is nothing?”
““He wasnoteye fucking me,” I protested, nausea building in my stomach. “And him looking like he wanted to rip your hands off wasn’t personal, that’s Beau.”
“He wasn’t looking at you like that,” Cole countered. “He was looking like he wanted to rip your clothes off. And you?—”
